


unravel

by sinagtala (strikinglight)



Series: kiss prompts [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Libraries, M/M, tie hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikinglight/pseuds/sinagtala
Summary: Kenma’s never learned to tie a tie neatly. The fact of the matter is that this has never been a problem.





	unravel

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Lark, for prompt #10: neck kiss. I'm... not exactly sure when/where this takes place in terms of canonicity/place/space/time/universe, so, uh, go wild, I guess (!!!!!!!)!

Kenma’s never learned to tie a tie neatly. The fact of the matter is that this has never been a problem.

In the mornings it’s just that it’s more trouble than it’s worth—sleepy, clumsy fingers, too little urgency even if it’s years before his mother stops complaining. Before Kuro stops tugging the end gently downward as they walk to school, so that it sits only slightly off-center instead of sideways. _Your tie’s wrinkled, Kenma. A little tighter, Kenma, come here. It’s practically on your shoulder._

But three guesses where his eyes went, the first time Kenma ever saw Akaashi Keiji in his school uniform. He still remembers how the colors had registered before anything else: pressed blue fabric, grey stripes, white shirt collar. Then the shape of the knot in the center of his throat, then a question that went unasked that day, and every other day since: _Can you even breathe?_

The question finds its answer in the quietest aisle of the public library, the books in the stacks pressed flush to Kenma’s spine as Keiji bends his body in. Suddenly more urgency than either of them know what to do with, for all that it’s the kind that moves slow. Keiji’s tie is immaculate as it always is, Kenma’s as loose as it’s ever been and growing looser still with every twist and curl of Keiji’s fingers working the loop open, then the buttons underneath. Then his lips follow those fingers and Kenma can feel Keiji breathe against the fine line where his jawbone joins his neck, hovering there, taking so much time.

 _You missed,_ Kenma tells him, hands digging into Keiji’s waist under the blazer, through the fabric of the shirt, leaving creases where they pass over the small of his back.

 _I meant to do that,_ he says. His mouth moves against Kenma’s pulse point, and then down. _This, too._

Kenma knows this, of course. Keiji never does things he doesn’t mean. Which is to say he always knows where to put his hands when they kiss, and what paths to trace his lips over, how hard and how long. But there’s no need for Kenma to acknowledge this in so many words. To do so would be an admission—would be giving in, even if he can’t say exactly _to what._

Another thing he can’t say: he hates being unraveled like this. Usually. And another thing: the way Keiji smiles a slow crescent moon-shape into the dip of his throat—listening, following—makes it worth all the embarrassment, almost.

One thing he does say, when he’s tired of listening to the sound of his own breath, stuttery and labored in Keiji’s ear: _Enough already._ It’s not at all to hear Keiji answer, Okay, then. And after that—still smiling, tipping his head up and ghosting his fingers aslant over Kenma’s collarbone, _Let me help._

The knot of Kenma’s tie sits neat and precise at the base of his throat when he exits the building at dusk, his collar folded over the soft places where his heart beats.


End file.
